You moving away was kind of like getting a new tattoo. It hurt a lot at first. Not just when it happened, but for awhile afterwards. It was a tender spot to be avoided but not forgotten. I didn't want to hide it, though. I wanted to tell and show everyone.
Then I would forget about it for short periods of time. For moments and hours and maybe even a day I would forget that you were further away now. That you aren't coming back. And, like the tattoo, I would be shocked when I noticed it again. How did I forget? After everything. All the attention and worry and thought?
Eventually, it became normal. Like the ink beneath the skin on my legs. Part of everything, part of my life. I have an ax on my leg. You live really far away. No surprises there. This is how it is.
And some changes in my life because of it. I can't wear capris or skirts at work. I can't spend my day off with you. I have to put sunscreen over my tattoos. I have to drive hours and hours to see you. And so I buy long skirts for work. And I try my best not to want to see you or talk to you. Because then I don't have to be upset that I can't.
But I like short skirts. And I do miss you.